All things Binge

I don't know if this blog will seem boring to y'all but it's part of my practice right now to honor all of those "bad habits" that I am giving up and leaving behind as I spin my cocoon. I am now doing the "Simeon's weight loss protocol:pounds and inches". I inject myself with a hormone every day for the next 40 days. Yesterday and today are "LOAD" days, which supposedly trick your hypothalamus into thinking it has plenty of fat to work with and not to send the message to your body to store fat. After today, I will be quasi-fasting for a month. Eating only lean meat and veggies and only about 500 calories per day. The hormone I'm taking is called HCG and it is from a pregnant woman's urine. YUM! The hormone makes my body think I'm preggo, and when I start the low calorie diet it will begin to flush thousands of calories a day from my fat reserves (butt, thighs, stomach)in order to feed my phantom fetus. The result will be a loss of about a pound a day, without losing any structural muscle. Uh, I meant it when I said I was going to liquefy and transform. Inside and out.

Yes, I know. Sounds fucking crazy. It's exactly the extreme kind of thing a person like me gets off on. And since I'm wrapping it in my spiritual descent for this year it should be a crazy adventure in the dark. Please spare me the "it doesn't sound safe" talk, I've heard it about 100 times. The fact is, people fast all of the time and it can be done safely and I'm not completely fasting.

I have a green ally to help me, The lady Dandelion. I've been foraging in the sidewalk cracks for her and made infusions, elixirs, and wines already from her leaves, roots and flowers. Part of the protocol is drinking a gallon of water a day and she will be infused into most of it. Her young leaves can be cooked like spinach, her blossoms tossed in a salad and I will be nourishing myself with her daily. If you see a lady in Venice walking around with a spade and digging in the weeds, that's me foraging for my dinner.

Okay so this part is to honor all of those things that I binge on and how they nourish me. Just saying, "oh these are bad habits and I'm bad for doing them and my resolution is to never do those bad things again..." is not authentic or reality. The fact is, I don't think anything I do is really "bad." I take things past the point of nourishment, and that hurts me. But everything has served me. I just don't need to take it with me anymore. Okay, let's start.

sex/relationships - I can't seem to have a close relationship, platonic or not, where I don't end up feeling like a victim and lacking in self worth. I honor, all of my relationships, good and bad, as they are my largest source of learning. I plan on developing a loving relationship with myself in the dark(oooh baby).

smoking medical marijuana- I really do believe this herb is a gift of the Goddess and a medicine. I have such anxiety at times that I feel like I'm going to explode and the herb cools me. It halts the grinding of thoughts like a freight train through my head, eases my always anxious and upset stomach. Stills the throbbing in my brain. Allows me to slow down to my daughter's pace when I need to play dolls with her for an hour or read her the same book 6 times in a row. It helps me open to the Divine, to sit still and listen. However, one can easily misuse it to not feel one's feelings. I think I need to feel my anxiety, pain and nausea now. Explore that voice in my head, that bitch, Erishkigal, that is back there screaming that I'm a big, fat loser, a shitty mom, and why would I think that I could ever achieve any of dreams or desires. I think that it's easy to crawl into a bong and hide from the scary world, to hide from her voice. The voice is getting louder regardless, and the sacred herb is bringing me no joy lately.

FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD- Just like the herb a gift from Goddess. Nurturing, mysterious, beautiful how life feeds on life. Just like the herb, a great escape and an instant sense of gratification can be easily overused. I am a compulsive eater and I use food to not feel my feelings. I want to severe this abusive relationship I have with food and create a loving, healthy one.

Socializing/Partying- I am a party animal and I love bars and good music but there is no way in hell that I am going out anywhere until next year. I'm going to indulge a bit of my social anxiety and become a hermit for a while. Besides, it's hard to hang at a party when you are liquefied and in a cocoon.

Well, got to get ready for school. Tonight is the new moon, my last night of feasting and I will be spending it in ritual with my coven sisters. Their love and energetic support will help me through the tunnels ahead and provide a light when I need one. Lots of spell work to do. I'll write about it tomorrow.

dirty laundry

Holy shit this is scary. Deep breathe. No body likes to air their dirty laundry. However, often when we lie to others the lie is believed by ourselves. In order to stay connected to my authenticity, I am going to write some things that I hate to think about in hopes that the extra oxygen will help those parts of me heal. I'm officially releasing all this crap from my being.

First, my husband beat me on the morning after our wedding. We were married at the little chapel of flowers in Vegas June 8, 2002 by a bi-polar Elvis impersonator. We did a lot of drugs and partied separately all night long and he passed out before I did in the morning. We were sharing our suite at Caesar's Palace with Jimmy's paraplegic friend from Illinois. Jimmy's friend had been in a car accident because he was in the back of a pickup truck when the driver, who was on acid, crashed the vehicle. Jimmy's friend smoked meth to pass his time.

Jimmy's friend was lying on the bed and I realized that he had shit all over himself. I ended up lifting his broken, shit covered body and carrying him to the shower. I showered him, dressed him and cleaned up the sheets. He was grateful.

After that I decided I was going straight to the pool to lie out in the sun and I walked into the bedroom to get my glasses. Jimmy woke up suddenly. His eyes were normally blue but when he opened them they seemed black. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist hard. "You stole all my shit." He said gripping me tightly. "You've been taking my drugs and selling them, haven't you, bitch!"

I was offended. He hadn't realized that he was the one that took all the meth amphetamine with him last night. I told him he was being a stupid dick and to go back to bed and by the way, I just cleaned up your shitty friend, jerk.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me on the bed. Then he wrapped his hands around my throat and started to choke me. I'm pretty strong and I fought back, full of rage, but he was still stronger than me. Not to mention he was a sociopath after a meth binge. I took out my hair clip which was one of those ones with the chopstick that you stick through the bun. I stabbed him with it on his arm. He grabbed me and lifted me up, and threw me into the jacuzzi bath tub, still full of last night's bathwater, now stale and cold. I screamed in rage and scrambled out. He grabbed me by the hair and straddled me on the floor but I landed a few good punches.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. It was the cops. I put on a happy face and Jimmy turned on his charm. We got them to leave. I flopped on the bed, crying, and tried to overdose myself on zanex. I don't really remember the ride home. Jimmy said I just cried the whole time. I didn't know it then, but I was 6 weeks pregnant. When I was eight months pregnant with her, Jimmy head butted me one time and I developed toxemia. That's when I swelled up like Violet Beauregarde in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

The main reason that it took me so long to leave him was because I had social workers up my ass for smoking pot while pregnant. I did and still do believe that it was not harmful to my baby. In fact, it was the only thing that aloud me to cope with a nightmare pregnancy with a nightmare husband. It really helped when I went into labor, it helped me stay calm when I was the most helpless feeling and in a complete panic. I looked for studies telling me the harmful effects but there were none. Anyway, I had a social worker come to my house for almost a year and I was adamant about keeping up appearances. At any time that social worker could decide to take my child away. I wanted her to think we were the perfect, little family and I played the part well. When I think back on all the things that happened that year I wish I had gotten rid of him much sooner. He was able to do a shit load of damage in such a short amount of time.

Well, believe it or not, my daughter is perfect. She is healthy, beautiful, smart, precocious and confident. The body is a miraculous thing. Her angels must have worked hard to protect her when she was in my belly since I wasn't able to. At times I can forgive myself for that.

As for me, well, I've come a long way. I still have PT SD from it all and deal with overwhelming anxiety at times. Hospitals give me anxiety attacks and even doctor appointments. I haven't been in a relationship since my divorce and that was over four years ago. Jimmy is not in our lives at all and I believe I have a healthy, loving home and a great family (me, my daughter, and my mom, oh and all the freakin' animals) all be it an odd one. We do just fine.

As for Jimmy, I actually can thank him now and feel love for him. He was the one who talked me out of getting an abortion. He was instrumental in my destruction, which was absolutely necessary in order to create the person I am today.

Reborn and awake. A conscious person. This person who believes in love, magic, Goddess, peace and quiet, compassion and justice. This person who mothers and nurtures, rages at patriarchy, writes, plays the frame drum and guitar, goes to college, weaves spells under the full moon, and does volunteer work. This Goddess who feels so alive even when scared to death, and is grateful for every moment of this freaky roller coaster ride we call life.

R

p.s. domestic violence is an international epidemic. The stats say 1 out of 4 women have been abused but that's just what has been reported. I think the number is more like 3 out of 4. Maybe if I would have called one of those dv hotlines, where one could remain anonymous, I could have received information that would have allowed me to have the courage to leave Jimmy sooner. If you are experiencing domestic violence, which includes verbal and mental abuse, I urge you to call, 1800-799-SAFE or dial 211.